


Mine...? [indefinite hiatus]

by wendywrites



Series: omegaverse [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendywrites/pseuds/wendywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Jinyoung have been carefully dancing around each other for months, revelling in the mutual sexual tension, but one chance, drunken encounter that Mark has with Youngjae at a New Year's party is a spanner in the works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Whole Body is Reacting

_10!_

_9!_

_8!_

_7!_

_6!_

_5!_

_4!_

_3!_

_2!_

_1!_

_Happy New Year!_

As cheers erupt from the crowd of party goers, the sky above their heads ignites with a spectacle of exploding bursts of coloured light. Mark watches the show with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, his arm thrown over his friend’s shoulders to keep himself upright from all the drinks he’s been knocking back. In his peripheral view he can see dozens of persons holding their mobile phones up to record the sight, but Mark doesn’t bother trying it. Even if his camera was quality enough to capture the fireworks in a way that did the sight justice, there’s no way it would have the same atmosphere.

 

“Happy New Year, Yi-Eun~!”

 

Mark giggles as his friend, Andrew, presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Hahaha, ewww, that’s gross, man.”

 

“Nothing’s a substitute for your little Korean boy, eh?” Andrew suggestively wiggles his eyebrows.

 

“Oh, Jinyoung!” Mark stand up straighter. “I should send him New Year’s greetings.” He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, his drink sloshing over the rim of his glass.

 

“Awww, dude, are you _that_ whipped?”

 

Mark flashes Andrew and wide grin before he stumbles away to find a quieter, more deserted place to make his call. As the phone rings, it suddenly occurs to Mark that there’s a time difference between South Korea and Hong Kong, but he can’t remember what it is.

 

 _“Hello, Mark,”_ Jinyoung’s sweet, warm voices cuts through Mark’s musing _._

 

“Hello! Happy New Year, Jinyoungie! It is the New Year in Korea right now, right?”

 

_Jinyoung chuckles._ _“Yes, Mark. It’s one o’clock in the morning here.”_

“Oh, shit, did I wake you?”

 

_“No, no, I never go to bed early during the holidays, and especially not on the first of January.”_

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Mark sighs in relief.

 

_“Besides, I couldn’t be angry with you for something like that,” Jinyoung says coyly._

 

Mark grins. “I wish you could’ve been here to watch the fireworks with me. The sky was so lit up so pretty, it was amazing!”

_“I’ll bet it was. Happy New Year to you, too.”_

 

“I’m out a party with my friends, are you at a party?”

 

_“No, I’m just at home reading a book. New Year’s celebrations are a lot more low-key and family oriented here.”_

 

“Oh, come on, there must be a party somewhere.” Mark’s not the most outgoing person, but he thinks it’s pretty galling for someone in their early twenties to not even go out on New Year’s.

_“I didn’t realise you were such a party animal,” Jinyoung chuckles._

 

“Rawr!” Mark playfully growls into the receiver. “Hey, did you get my present yet?”

 

_“Hmmm, that depends; did you get me mine?”_

 

“I diiid,” Mark sings. He had to abandon his original idea of a tailored suit when he couldn’t suss out Jinyoung’s measurements, but he’s confident that Jinyoung will be satisfied with the porcelain bookmark and the tea selection that Mark pick out for him.

 

_“In that case, you’ll have a present ready and waiting for you when you return to Seoul. Speaking of which, when is your flight?”_

It takes Mark a few seconds to recall the date, but before he can tell Jinyoung, the wind changes direction and an enticing scent fills Mark’s nostrils. He inhales deeply, his eyes falling closed as his body tingles. Experiencing Seoul’s colder climate has made Mark all but immune to the mild chill of Hong Kong’s winter, but the way his blood is heating up and warming his body is making Mark feel like he’s in L.A. in the summer, visiting his relatives.

 

_“Mark? Are you still there?”_

 

Mark shakes his head in a bid to clear it, trying to hold onto the sound of Jinyoung’s voice, but the combination of the alcohol in his blood and the alluring scent on the breeze is too strong. Both his phone and his drink go clattering to the ground as Mark follows his nose to the source of the scent. The trail leads him further away from the party and into the slightly overgrown field behind the building.

 

“Ah, oh, God,” a weak voice calls out in Korean.

 

Mark stops short at the sight of the man curled up in a foetal position on the ground. His reddened face shines with sweat and his eyes are clenched shut as he claws at his abdomen.

 

“Hey, are you alright?” Mark steps forward and kneels beside the man with a swiftness and steadiness that he hasn’t felt capable of pulling off for the last two hours.

 

“Mph, I…” the man groans, slowly opening his eyes as Mark lightly shakes his shoulder.

 

His face is half hidden by weeds, but it’s strikingly attractive from what Mark can actually see. His upturned eyes gleam up at Mark through the smudged eyeliner that aptly highlights their shape and a charming looking mole rests delicately above the apple of his cheek.

 

“Are you alright?” Mark repeats, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

 

“I am now,” the man replies, his voice taking on a dreamy quality.

 

“Good,” Mark nods. His eyes flit between the other man’s eyes and his plump lips as he helps the man to sit up.

 

“Thank you,” the other man sighs.

 

Mark’s eyes flutter as the warm breath tickles his face. He opens his mouth to reply and finds himself with his tongue in the other man’s mouth. He tastes almost as good as he smells, and Mark holds tightly onto his shoulders as he leans in closer. The other man trembles in Mark’s arms, a long, low moan of his getting swallowed up by Mark’s mouth.

 

“Oh!” the other man gasps as his back hits the ground.

 

From his position on top of him, pinning the other man’s wrists beside his head, Mark peppers his throat with sucking kisses. When he gets to the junction of the man’s neck and shoulder Mark licks a wet stripe before he sinks his teeth into that same spot.

 

“Ah!”

 

The other man shudders beneath him, the friction heating Mark’s blood even more. Before the other man can catch his breath, Mark is stealing it away, sealing their lips together. Mark groans in equal parts surprise and arousal when he feels long legs wrap around his waist and hands desperately clawing at his shoulders and back.

 

“Please…”

 

That helpless whispered moan gets Mark harder than he’s ever been in his life. He fumbles one-handedly with the buckle of his belt while leaning on his other hand to keep his balance. When that yields no success, he tears himself away from the other man with a muttered curse and attacks his jeans with both hands. Mark’s jeans and underwear are lowered in seconds and Mark makes equally quick work of the other man’s jeans and underwear; he doesn’t bother to remove either of their shirts. His cock in hand, Mark lines himself up at the other man’s entrance and thrusts his hips.

 

“Oh, fuuuck,” he throws his head back in a groan.

 

Legs squeeze his hips and hands hold onto his arms for dear life as the warm wetness around his cock contracts, all but locking him in place. Mark sits frozen for a second as pleasure ripples through his body before he regains some semblance of control. He surges forward, pinning down the other man’s hands and pistoning his hips.

 

“More!”

 

That cry triggers something animalistic inside Mark. He pauses his thrusting to flip the other man onto his stomach, pinning his body to the ground with his own before he slips his cock back inside and starts thrusting even harder and faster.

 

“Oh! Oh! _Oh!_ ”

 

Music to Mark’s ears. He bites down on the other man’s neck once more, holding him in place before he pushes his body to the limit with his thrusts. His knees are sore and probably bleeding, and the grass is stinging his skin, but Mark disregards that as the man beneath him shakes and shudders with release. Mark is right behind him, his body filling and emptying in seconds as a deep calm washes over him.

 

As his breathing rate and pulse slowly return to normal, the haze retreats from Mark’s sense. He blinks in confusion as he feels something shift beneath. Sitting up on his arms, he sees a man on his stomach staring up at Mark over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, shit! What the fuck?” Mark pushes himself away, a gasp escaping his lips as his cock slips out of the other man. His jeans and underwear, bunched as they are around his knees, trip him as he stumbles away in horror.

 

The other man hastily pushes himself into a sitting position, his hands flying up to cover himself. As shocked and as mortified as he feels, Mark is unwittingly charmed by the blush blooming on the other man’s cheeks. He shakes his head.

 

“You…we just…” the other man speaks at last, his mouth barely moving.

 

For a long moment, he and Mark just stare at each other in complete silence. The chilly wind batters Mark’s overheated skin into numbness and his skin itches from the grass, but he makes no move to right his clothing. On some unseen cue, the other man slowly lowers his head and widens his legs.

 

“…Oh,” he whispers in dismay, his face blanching as he touches the wet spot there and examines the fluid with his fingers.

 

The skin covering Mark’s face and scalp prickle and all the hairs on his body stand on end.

 

“Shit.”

 


	2. Congratulations

The clacking of the receptionist’s keyboard and the ticking of the clock on the wall seem to echo in the deathly stillness of the clinic. Youngjae shifts in his seat, looking up from fiddling with the bottle of water sitting in his lap.  The clinic’s only other  occupant seems to have gotten her test results and left in the time Youngjae was last aware of his surroundings; the chair in the corner is empty and the old magazine she was idly flipping through lies on the small table next to the chair. So, it’s just him and Mark left.

 

Glancing at the other man in the corner of his eye, Youngjae sees that he’s scrolling through his phone. Youngjae turns his head slightly, but even that much movement draws Mark’s attention. He turns away from his phone to stare back at Youngjae, his expression still infuriatingly impassive. Youngjae quickly looks away, turning his gaze on anything and everything in the room but the man sitting beside him. Still he feels the phantom pinprick of Mark’s gaze.

 

“Choi Youngjae, the doctor is ready to see you,” the reception calls out.

 

“Uh, right, okay.” Youngjae jumps up from his seat, making a beeline for the corridor the receptionist is gesturing to.

 

“Is he…” she trails off, glancing back at Mark, who is still seated.

 

“I won’t be in the way?”

 

The receptionist turns back to Youngjae, a question in her eyes.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Youngjae calls over his shoulder before he starts down the corridor.

 

The receptionist takes his cue and starts to lead him to the right door. “Here it is, room 201. I hope you get the result you’re looking for,” she says with pity in her voice.

 

Youngjae stiffens, but makes sure his tone is polite as he thanks her. The examination room is only slightly bigger than his dorm room, containing just enough space to fit the patient’s bed, the ultrasound equipment and a desk.

 

“Hello, Choi Youngjae. I’m Dr. Park, pleased to meet you,” says a middle aged man with a kind smile.

 

“Thank you for attending to me,” Youngjae bows before closing the door behind him.

 

“Your file says you’ve never done an ultrasound before, so I’ll tell you the basics. I’ll rub a gel onto your abdomen area—be warned, the gel is quite cold—and then I’ll ask you to hold still while I examine you with this device,” he holds up something that looks like a microphone. “It will be a relatively quick and entirely non-invasive procedure. Now, let’s get started. Please lie on the bed.”

 

Youngjae obliges, toeing off his shoes, removing his shirt and pushing down the waistband of his sweatpants. Even though he’s been warned about the gel, Youngjae still can’t contain a small gasp as Dr. Park begins to smear it over his abdomen. The doctor’s eyes are fixed on the black and white screen in front of him as he moves the device all around Youngjae’s abdomen. For his part, Youngjae can’t make sense of anything on the screen and he has no idea how to take Dr. Park’s humming noises.

 

“Hmmm, let’s see if this…hmmm…ah, there it is.” He stops at a particular spot and presses the device against Youngjae’s skin with a bit more force.

 

Youngjae is so preoccupied with trying to keep his bladder under control that it takes a moment for the words to register with him. “What?”

 

“There’s the embryo.”

 

Youngjae follows his finger to the screen, where there is a very hazy image of a round sac. It’s quite small, as enlarged as the image already is , and it’s kind of unbelievable that such a tiny thing will eventually grow to the size of an actual human child. Youngjae lies on the bed, staring unblinkingly at the screen.

 

“Ahem.”

 

He blinks and turns to Dr. Park, who is staring at him with a shrewd expression.

 

“Ar congratulations in order?”

 

“…Is the procedure over now? I really need to use the toilet,” Youngjae mumbles as he looks away.

 

“There’s a bathroom right through that door,” Dr. Park gestures with his head.

 

Youngjae climbs down from the bed and hurries inside. When he’s finished relieving his bladder, he takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet with his head in his hands. He stares down at his stomach, closely watching it move as he breathes deeply. Before his eyes, it starts to get bigger and bigger, obscuring Youngjae’s view of his feet until all he can see in a protruding mass of skin. Youngjae blinks and the image is gone.

 

He jumps to his feet, stepping up to the sink to splash cold water onto his face. The man in the mirror doesn’t look any different than he did this morning or last week or six weeks ago, but Youngjae can barely recognise him.

 

“Thank you for examining me, I’ll see myself out,” Youngjae says as he steps out of the bathroom, grabbing his shirt and shoes as he heads for the  door.

 

“Would you like a copy of the sonogram?”

 

Youngjae stops at the doorway.

 

“Either way, it can’t hurt to take it.”

 

Youngjae mulls it over as he puts his shirt back on and slips on his shoes.

 

“Alright,” he nods.

 

Back in the reception room, Mark looks up when Youngjae walks in, his eyes immediately narrowing in on the folder clutched in Youngjae’s hands. His face pales.

 

Youngjae walks past him and steps outside, not particularly caring if Mark follows him or not.

 

It takes a minute, but eventually the sounds of hurried footfalls reaches Youngjae’s ears before Mark appears in his line of sight. His face is slightly flushed and the air in front of him turns white with his pants for breath.

 

“Um…You forgot these.” Mark holds out a thick black coat and white scarf out to Youngjae.

 

“Oh, right,” Youngjae blinks.

 

Mark stares at him expectantly for a moment before he wraps the scarf around Youngjae’s neck and slips the coat over his shoulders.

 

“You don’t want to get sick,” Mark mutters as he zips up the coat.

 

“Yeah, right. Thanks.”

 

Mark shivers a a flurry of white flakes start to rain down from the sky, laying a fresh blanket over anything stationary.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark says, taking Youngjae by the wrist and leading him away.

 

Youngjae stumbles at first, but soon manages to remember how to walk again. As they continue to trudge along, his sense of feeling returns and he too starts to shiver as snow clumps in his hair and sticks to his eyelashes. They walk for ten more minutes before Youngjae finally thinks to ask where exactly Mark is taking them. Before he can verbalise his question, they step inside the campus Starbucks.

 

“You go ahead and take a seat. I’ll get us some drinks,” Mark offers.

 

It’s a kind gesture, but something about it makes Youngjae teeth clench, but he goes and sits down at a table in the corner anyway. Mark returns with two drinks and a muffin. The powerful smell of peppermint and the gingerbread make Youngjae’s eyes water slightly, even with the lids on the cups.

 

“Thanks,” Youngjae nods to Mark as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

 

A long sigh escapes Mark’s lips. “So…yes?”

 

Youngjae nods, taking a small bite of his almond muffin. Even though he couldn’t have breakfast before the ultrasound, the muffin is a bit too sweet for his taste.

 

Mark nods in return and leans back in his seat with another sigh before he takes a big gulp of his coffee. “So, what are we going to do?”

 

Youngjae’s mind races with possible responses to that question, but he doesn’t voice any of them. Perhaps he’s in shock.

 

“Classes start in two weeks,” Mark continues, his eyes focused on the table as he swirls his cup.

 

 _Stop talking_ , Youngjae thinks, but his mouth stays sealed shut.

 

“I’m still going to have to think up something to tell Jinyoung.”

 

Youngjae’s hand tightens around his cup.

 

“Not to mention our parents, the school administration and—potentially— the national regis—”

 

“Just shut up!”

 

Mark’s eyes comically widen before they narrow to their normal size, turning cold and steely. Youngjae hangs his head and tries to hide behind his hot chocolate.

 

“Mark? What the fuck, man?”

 

“Great,” Mark mutters.

 

“First you change your flight for no reason and then you pull the Houdini act—I tried calling you for days before I found out you lost your phone and you haven’t come to any of my matches—seriously, what the hell is going on?”

 

Youngjae peaks up in time to see a strange man in a red and black snapback not-so-playfully punch Mark in the arm. Youngjae thinks that this might be the infamous Jinyoung, but he stands corrected when Mark speaks up.

 

“Jackson, please, not right now,” Mark pleads, looking pained.

 

Jackson turns to Youngjae as if just noticing him. “Oh, hi, I’m Jackson,” he smiles.

 

Youngjae mumbles his name and nods in reply.

 

“Look, I promise I’ll explain everything, just not right now. Okay?”

 

“Alright,” Jackson sighs, reluctance dripping from his voice. “I’ve got to get back to training, see you later,” he says before he slinks off, looking back at Mark as he goes.

 

Youngjae watches him leave, feeling more than a bit envious of how much Jackson clearly cares for his friend. Neither Youngjae nor Mark talk for a while after Jackson leaves. Mark fidgets in his seat, his eyes darting around the coffee shop, while Youngjae slowly sips on his lukewarm hot chocolate.  Just as Youngjae hits the dregs of his drink, Mark starts to chew on his bottom lip and drum his fingers on the top of the table.

 

“Look, I know it’s early still, you literally just got confirmation today, but it’s got to have been on your mind the past six weeks. Do you even have a idea of which way you might lean? I mean, if you’ll have it or not?”

 

The words hang in the air between them. Youngjae opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again, but soon shuts it. A torrent of words sit at the tip of his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to speak them—the thought of not only going through the pains of having a baby but also trying to raise it with a virtual stranger; being uncertain of whether he could carry a child inside his body for the better part of a year and then actually give it away to complete strangers because he agreed to do so; the cold terror that grips him at the thought of being strapped down to a table while someone takes a vacuum to his insides.

 

After the silence stretches for a few minutes, Youngjae folds his arms on the table and slumps onto them. Mark doesn’t say anything else, he just cards his hand gently through Youngjae’s hair.

 


	3. Truth

_Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!_

 

Jinyoung’s phone thrills with an incoming call. The default ringtone is a clue that it’s an unwanted call, but a glance at the unfamiliar number and lack of contact name on the screen is confirmation. Jinyoung swipes to ignore the call and turns his attention back to the unnecessarily complicated process of registering for classes.

 

_Bzzzt!_

 

His phones rumbles on the desk again, this time with a notification of a new voice-mail message. _That_ _’s odd_ , he thinks. _Cold callers and scammers don_ _’t ever leave messages_. Frowning in confusion, Jinyoung unlocks his phone and brings up the voice-mail.

 

_“Jinyoung, it’s me. Sorry I’ve been out-of-touch, I lost my phone at that New Year’s party and…I really need to talk to you, a lot of things have happened since then and we need to talk. Please call me back as soon as possible. Oh, and this is my new number, by the way. Bye.”_

 

Jinyoung initially perks up at the sound of Mark’s voice, but his stomach twists at the dread and resignation heavy in the other man’s voice and at the vagueness of his message. Did Mark get mixed up with drugs? The unsavory people who deal them? Is he seriously ill? What could’ve happened? Jinyoung wastes no time in returning Mark’s call.

 

_“Jinyoung?”_

 

“Yes, it’s me. A bit ominous your message,” he chuckles slightly. “What’s wrong?”

 

_“This, this is really not the kind of thing to be said over the phone.”_

 

Jinyoung bites his lip.

 

_“Are you busy now?”_

 

“Now?” Jinyoung blinks. “Well, I was just sorting out my classes, but I’m thinking it can wait.”

 

_“It’s not so urgent that you can’t finish doing that, but we really should talk sometime today.”_

 

“Give me an hour,” Jinyoung saying around his bottom lip. “Meet you at the coffee shop?”

 

_“N-no, not there. At the bench by the river.”_

 

“Right, okay. I’ll see you then.”

 

_“Goodbye, Jinyoung.”_

 

Jinyoung slips his silk blindfold over his eye and plugs his earphones in, taking deep breaths as he lets the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the shore wash over him. When he is finally able to tamp down his mounting anxiety, Jinyoung uncovers his eyes and finds that he’s lost about ten minutes. Setting aside his phone, he throws himself back into the registration process. The meditation seems to have done more than calm him down, because the process goes by a bit smoother than it did before. With twelve minutes to spare, Jinyoung shuts down his laptop  and pulls on his coat. He pauses to edit Mark’s contact information with his new number and then he’s out the door.

 

The weather outside is truly frightful. Jinyoung holds his coat closer to his body as he power walks to the river. Idly, he wonders if he can’t convince Mark to change their meeting place somewhere indoors. He’s about to call the other man back, but he stops short when he sees a familiar head of hair already waiting by their bench.

 

  “Mark?”

 

The other man turns and meekly waves in greeting.

 

“You said we need to talk—in person. I’m here now, so what’s wrong?”

 

Mark gestures for him to take a seat. Jinyoung gives him a disbelieving look, but he goes ahead and brushes the excess snow off the bench before he eases himself down. Even with his thick, weather proof coat on, Jinyoung can’t help but flinch slightly as the chill from the wood seeps into his skin.

 

“What happened, Mark?”

 

Mark sighs deeply. “This is going to be difficult for you to hear—shit, it’s difficult for me to say—but promise me you’ll listen to the whole thing? Even if you hate me, at least hate me knowing the whole truth.”

 

Bile rises to the back of Jinyoung’s throat. Jinyoung swallows it down. “How could I possibly hate you?” he laughs nervously.

 

“I slept with someone else.”

 

The words are a punch to the gut. Distantly, Jinyoung is glad that Mark insisted that he sit down.

 

“…after I called…can’t really remember…not an excuse…to understand my—”

 

“How dare you?” Jinyoung’s voice is low, barely audible to his own ears, but it immediately silences Mark. “I can’t believe—You—” Jinyoung leaps up from the bench.

 

“Jinyoung, please, just hear me out.” Mark reaches out a hand to Jinyoung.

 

Jinyoung slaps it away and turns on his heel.

 

“Are you really going to leave now with less than half of the story?”

 

Jinyoung stops in his tracks. A part of him wants nothing more than to spite Mark by saying ‘Yes’ and walking away without a backward glance, but a much larger part demands to know all the details. Jinyoung huffs out a breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides, before he turns on his heel again and marches back to the bench.

 

“It happened at the New Year’s party. There was a guy, an omega going through a heat, and I lost control. I bit him and I got him pregnant.”

 

Jinyoung takes a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly as the backs of his eyes start to sting. “Wow, Mark, just—wow,” he chokes.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“Ha.” It starts off as little more than a wheeze; it morphs into a chuckle; within seconds it’s a full-bodied, raucous peal. “Hahahahahah! _Haha!_ ”

 

“Jinyoung?” Mark cautiously touches Jinyoung’s shoulder.

 

“You’re _‘sorry’_?!” Jinyoung whirls around, nearly falling off the bench.

 

“I mean it, I wasn’t myself at the time.”

 

“Then who were you, exactly?” Jinyoung scoffs.

 

“Do you think I _wanted_ this to happen?” Mark throws up his hands. “That I would’ve gone if I had any idea that this would happen? I care about you Jinyoung,” he says desperately.

 

“Sorry, Mark, I don’t date mated men,” Jinyoung says causticly.

 

He pushes up from the bench and stalks away, breathing heavily as he goes. It takes Jinyoung two whole minutes to realise that he’s heading in the opposite direction of his dorm room, but he carries on anyway. It’s probably better for himself and anyone he might come across that he burn off off some energy by taking the long way back.

 

He makes it to the end of the long, winding path along the river before a deep cough wracks Jinyoung’s entire body. He stops to lean against a tree for support. The frigid air is making his chest burn, but he can’t stop gasping. Jinyoung digs through his coat pocket and pulls out his earphones and finds the appropriate playlist on his phone. Even with the volume turned all the way up, Jinyoung can still hear his own breath over the sounds of light rain in the forest. In lieu of his blindfold, Jinyoung pulls his coat hood over his head and shuts his eyes.

 

Slowly but surely, the tightness in his chest ebbs away and Jinyoung’s breathing rate starts to return to normal. As the sounds of rainfall morphs into the sound of a crackling campfire, Jinyoung stinging eyes fill with water. Twin drops race their way down opposite sides of Jinyoung’s face, all the way to his jaw, where they hang briefly before falling to freedom. Before they can hit the ground, other drops rush to take their places, moving faster and faster until the drops turn to streams.

 

Jinyoung lifts one hand to his mouth and uses the other to pull his hood even further over his head. His shoulders shake with muffled sobs.

 

 

 

 

When he finally runs out of tears to cry, Jinyoung picks himself back up and continues his trek back to his dorm. The room is thankfully empty when he arrives, his roommate not yet back from home for the new term. It means there’s no-one to stare or ask annoying questions when Jinyoung removes his coat and reveals his splotchy face and bloodshot eyes.

 

To chase the chill away, Jinyoung heads off to the shower down the hall, making sure to slip his sunglasses onto his face just before he steps out of the room. The scalding hot water not only warms him him up, it also goes a long way in bleeding the tension of Jinyoung’s body, and now he wants nothing more than to  collapse into bed and shut the world out for a few hours. Unfortunately, one stupid, nagging thought keeps him wide awake in bed.

 

Throwing off his covers, Jinyoung steps into a pair of bed slippers and makes his way to the lifts. He makes it all the way to Jackson and Jaebum’s room—five floors up on the other side of the housing complex—before it occurs to Jinyoung that Jaebum might not even be in his room right now, and he left his phone behind in his room. Fortunately, the fates decide to spare him this one small mercy.

 

“Jinyoung, hey, how are you?” Jaebum greets him at the door. “Did you want to come in?”

 

“Stop trying to get out of giving me my message,” Jackson whines from where he’s sprawled on his bed.

 

Jaebum rolls his eyes and pulls the door closed behind him.

 

“I just wanted to know how it felt,” Jinyoung speaks up, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears.

 

“How what felt?” Jaebum blinks, stepping further out into the corridor.

 

“When you and Jackson had your scare, what were you thinking at the time?” Jinyoung has asked this question before—several times, and typically with a generous dose of sarcasm in his voice—but now he actually wants an answer.

 

Jaebum’s eyes search Jinyoung’s face for a moment before he replies. “I wasn’t, really,” he admits. “I kind of took a backseat inside my own mind. It would probably be terrifying if I could remember it more clearly. Even when Jackson told me to prove that I was his alpha, I only considered going as far as the bite. Everything after that was…” he shakes his head. “It was like a switch was flipped inside my brain.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Any particular reason why you’re asking this?” Jaebum raises his eyebrows.

 

“Curiosity.” Jinyoung turns and heads back down the corridor.

 

Jaebum’s words run through Jinyoung’s mind on an endless loop as he burrows under his thick blankets in bed. It’s still far too early for him to forgive Mark, the transgression still weighs too heavy on his mind and his heart, but he’s finally able to drift off and get some rest when he closes his eyes.


	4. Smile Again

The score is 14 – 13. From his limited knowledge of fencing and the reactions of the rest of the crowd, Mark knows that Jackson is in top form and has been putting up an impressive fight, but his opponent isn’t making it easy for him. A feint gone wrong sees Jackson surrounding a point and the stadium erupts with noise as the score becomes tied at 14.

 

“Come on, Jackson,” Mark mutters under his breath.

 

A hush falls over the crowd again as the two fencers take their marks.

 

“En garde. Pret. Allez.”

 

The referee moves his hand and the two fly at each other, the thin blades of their swords becoming invisible as they swipe and jab at each other with amazing speed. Mark jumps in his seat and swears under his breath when Jackson’s opponent lands another hit, but his left foot briefly leaves the side of the piste and play is halted. Jackson is allowed to advance and the crowd is simply buzzing. It takes a little longer for the crowd to calm down, and the cheers are deafening when Jackson finally takes his winning point.

 

“Woooo! Yeah!” Jackson rips off his mask and jumps around in celebration before he runs over to the side and disappears into a group hug from his teammates.

 

“Good job, Captain,” Mark grins.

 

Long after the medals are handed out and the closing ceremonies are over, Mark remains in the stands, waiting for Jackson to re-emerge. At the eleventh hour, Mark is hit with a bolt of guilt and he rethinks potentially spoiling his best friend’s big triumph with his own personal drama. Mark pulls out his phone to send a text telling Jackson to go on and celebrate with the rest of the team.

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mark Tuan,” Jackson calls out as he struts across room.

 

Too late.

 

“Left your invisibility cloak in the dorm, did you?” Jackson plops down on the bench beside Mark, stretching out his legs and puffing out his chest, undoubtedly to show off the two gold medals—one individual, one team—resting there.

 

“I’m there when it really counts?” Mark shrugs sheepishly.

 

“Every match counts,” Jackson pouts. 

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry,” Mark nods.

 

“But! I’m willing to forgive you if you tell me why you’ve been acting weird, going all M.I.A., and if you buy me dinner.” Jackson bumps Mark’s shoulder with his own.

 

Mark bumps Jackson’s shoulder in return. “Just so you know, you are not prepared for this.”

 

Jackson’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “Jesus, dude, did you kill somebody?”

 

“No. On New Year’s I got shitfaced, fucked a random guy, bit him, and knocked him up.”

 

After ripping off the proverbial bandage by telling Jinyoung, the words spill out of Mark’s mouth with considerable ease.

 

“You’re shitting me.” Jackson leans back and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he thinks he’s being lied to.

 

“Nope.” Mark shakes his head.

 

“…Fucking hell, man.” Jackson rakes his hand through his sweaty hair.

 

“Yup,” Mark replies calmly.

 

“Does Jinyoung know?

 

“Yup.”

 

“Oh, shit. He can’t happy about that.” Jackson rubs his mouth.

 

“Nope.”

 

Jackson frowns. “So, wait, the guy, is he going to have it?”

 

“Don’t know,” Mark shakes his head.

 

“What’s gonna happen with you and him? With you and Jinyoung?”

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“Do, do your parents know about this?”

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Well…shit, man, you really weren’t kidding when you said I wasn’t prepared for this.” Jackson shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“Nope,” Marks says, popping the ‘p’.

 

Mark leans back on his hands until his back brushes the edge of the row above him. Jackson follows. He doesn’t offer Mark any other words of commiseration—he doesn’t speak at all, surprisingly—but he leans his body against Mark’s, placing his head on Mark’s shoulder. Mark rests his head against Jackson, not caring about the crick he can already feel forming in his neck.

 

“What a fucking mess, man.” Jackson’s shoulder shakes as he starts to laugh.

 

“I fucking know, right,” Mark snorts, the sound echoing in the empty stadium.

 

 

 

 

“You know,” Jackson says around a mouthful of black bean noodles, “I actually feel kind of bad for making you pay for dinner, all things considered.”

 

“Forget it,” Mark says dismissively, waving a hand. “Think of it as an apology for that crack I made about Jaebum knocking you up.”

 

“Hmmm, well, yes, I think my guilt has been reconciled. In fact, I might get a round of drinks for the whole restaurant.”

 

Mark briefly narrows his eyes at Jackson. “Anyway, while we’re on the topic, can I ask you something?”

 

“Shoot.” Jackson pops a piece of pickled radish into his mouth.

 

“If it turns out you had been knocked up, what would you have done?”

 

Jackson blinks, looking as if he hadn’t thought of that. “I never really thought that far, honestly. I kind of refused to,” he says with a sheepish shrug. “My whole approach to it was to figure out what to do if it happened; it didn’t happen.”

 

“Hmm, so what if—No, never mind,” Mark shakes his head, spooning more kimchi jijae into his mouth.

 

“Spit it out, Tuan.”

 

Mark licks his lips. “What if it does happen? I’m guessing you and Jaebum are being extra careful now, but for argument’s sake, what would you do if you found out you were pregnant tomorrow?” he asks from behind his bottle of beer.

 

Jackson carefully chews the food in his mouth and washes it down with a long sip of his drink before he replies. “I think I’d keep it.”

 

“Really?” Mark’s eyebrows jump.

 

“Yeah,” Jackson says pensively. “It wouldn’t be easy and the idea of being pregnant still kinda freaks me the fuck out, but I think I’d go through with it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, I love kids and I’ve always wanted them. Even if now wouldn't be the best timing, that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work at all. I’d have Jaebum to help me, and my parents definitely would get involved. I’d imagine Luke would suddenly decide to come back here to work,” Jackson chuckles.

 

“True,” Mark nods.

 

“Besides, it’s not like I would be doomed to give up on school and/or fencing forever. Literally millions of people have babies and carry on with their jobs and education,” he shrugs. “And anyone who tried to tell me that I couldn’t do it would just be presenting me with the opportunity to rub their stupid face in it when I did,” Jackson flashes his teeth in a fierce grin.

 

“You really do have an interesting mindset,” Mark can’t help but laugh.

 

“It’s a champion’s mindset,” Jackson winks, but then his expression sobers a bit. “Do you really not know if he’s going to keep the baby or give it up or abort or what?”

 

Mark shakes his head. “He’s difficult to read and he hasn’t said anything yet. I don’t want to seem like I’m pushing him one way or another, so I’ve kind of left him alone since he did the confirmation ultrasound. Still, it’d be good to have some kind of idea before classes start.”

 

“Wait, he goes to school here?” Jackson frowns.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Who is it? Anyone I—Oh, shit, is it that guy you were with at the coffee shop? Is that why you were all ‘go away, Jackson’? Ohhh, that really does explain a lot.”

 

“I said ‘not now’ not ‘go away’.”

 

“Same thing,” Jackson sniffs. “So, you have a type.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Dark hair, pale skin, pathetically cute,” Jackson ticks the list off on his fingers.

 

“Hmm, if I like the cute ones then why did you ever think that I could be your alpha?”

 

“ _Wow_ , Mark,” Jackson leans back in his seat, his hand held to his chest. “The guy who spent half an hour swinging a fucking sword in my face was less hostile.”

 

Mark sticks out his tongue at Jackson before he dissolves into laughter. Now more than ever his self-imposed isolation form his best friend seems like such a stupid decision.


	5. Go Crazy

“Ah, so this is where you’ve been.”

 

Jinyoung stiffens in his seat at the sound of Jaebum’s voice. Sighing under his breath, Jinyoung looks up from _The Life and Times of Leslie Cheung._ It’s only Commencement Day, so the library is practically deserted, but that’s exactly why Jinyoung sought refuge here to begin with.

 

“Yes, my roommate is back from holidays, so I can’t get any peace in my dorm anymore,” Jinyoung says blandly.

 

“Don’t tell me, he already has a girl in there?” Jaebum’s eyebrows jump.

 

“Yes,” Jinyoung says flatly.

 

“I guess it takes all kinds,” Jaebum shakes his head with a chuckle. “Anyway, could I talk to you for a minute?” Jaebum asks, but he takes a seat on the other side of the table without waiting for Jinyoung to respond.

 

Jinyoung slips his old, worn bookmark inside his book before closing it and setting it aside with a sigh. Jaebum stares at it for a second before he returns his gaze back to Jinyoung.

 

“Jackson won two gold medals at his fencing tournament.”

 

“Oh, really?” Jinyoung blinks.

 

“Yeah,” Jaebum beams, his face practically glowing with pride.

 

Jinyoung can’t help but smile back. “Seems as though the victory hasn’t made him insufferable yet.”

 

“Ha, not exactly,” Jaebum rolls his eyes. “He’s been insisting we make a quick trip back to my parents’ house so he can show off his medals and, hopefully, impress them.”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might actually work,” Jinyoung rubs his chin. “Remember that time your father was removed from one of your gymnastics competitions because he jumped up and shouted so loudly when you stuck a perfect landing?” A laugh bursts out of Jinyoung and he quickly covers his mouth with one of his hands, glancing around to make sure he didn’t disturb anyone.

 

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Jaebum groans. “But, yeah, I guess you’re right. Two gold medals and the possibility of an Olympic debut might make my parents warm up to him. It’ll still take a while for them to get used to his…outgoingness.”

 

“If nothing else, your grandmother will be pleased,” Jinyoung grins.

 

“Oh, definitely,” Jaebum laughs. “She’ll probably have a picture of him put up on her mantle.”

 

“And I wouldn’t worry so much about your parents,” Jinyoung waves his hand. “If anyone can wear them down and worm his way into their hearts, it’s him.”

 

Jaebum nods. “He wants to go during summer break, but I want to wait until Chuseok. It feels more fitting, a family holiday.”

 

The two of them lapse into silence, the air still save for their breathing and the faint clicking of the librarian’s keyboard. When the silence stretches for over a minute, Jinyoung rests his cheek against his fist and idly runs his finger over the cover of his book, waiting for Jaebum to say what he actually sought Jinyoung out for.

 

“Jackson told me.”

 

“Of course,” Jinyoung sighs, his eyes falling shut.

 

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice how red your face was when you came to my dorm last week. Your sunglasses can only hide so much, especially from me.”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Jinyoung says through clenched teeth.

 

“Tough; you’ve been left alone to stew over it for too long.”

 

Jinyoung opens his eyes and raises his head. Jaebum’s expression is all determined patience, the one that says ‘We both know that you are not more stubborn than me’. Jinyoung sighs and sits back in his chair.

 

“What even is there to say at this point?”

 

“How you feel.”

 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” Jinyoung laughs bitterly.

 

“Hey, that’s my best friend you’re saying doesn’t matter,” Jaebum lightly kicks Jinyoung’s shin.

 

It’s a nudge more than a kick, really, and it’s something Jinyoung has endured about a hundred times before over the many years he and Jaebum have known each other, but this time it ignites something inside him.

 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Jinyoung not-so-lightly kicks Jaebum back.

 

Jaebum sits up straight, his face going blank. An alarm goes off in the back of Jinyoung’s head, but he forces his expression to remain stoic as he glares back at Jaebum. Jaebum slowly gets to his feet and walks around the table until he’s standing beside Jinyoung. Jinyoung half-expects Jaebum to walk away and give him the silent treatment for a while.

 

“Ah!” Jinyoung gasps as Jaebum slaps the back of his hand against Jinyoung’s cheek.

 

Jaebum crosses his arms over his chest, his expression still blank as he looms over Jinyoung. Jinyoung stares back at him in disbelief, working his jaw as the stinging sensation gradually fades. That doesn’t take long, but Jinyoung can’t tell if it’s because the slap didn’t actually hurt that much to begin with or if his heated blood rushing to his face is masking the sting.

 

“You…”

 

Pain explodes in Jinyoung’s knees and elbows as they bang against the ground, but Jinyoung pays it no mind as he struggles to get the upper hand and land his own hit on Jaebum. Jaebum twists and sends them rolling and tumbling along the floor, knocking over chairs and crashing into tables as they go.

 

Jaebum uses the momentum to get on top and pin Jinyoung’s wrist to the floor and digging his knee into Jinyoung’s stomach.  It takes all of Jinyoung’s strength, but he drags his wrists along the floor, unbalancing Jaebum long enough for Jinyoung to surge up in a bid to free himself.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“Shit!”

 

Jinyoung’s vision goes briefly black and then red when his forehead collides with Jaebum’s, but he takes the opportunity to pull back his fist and send it slamming into Jaebum’s face. The older man goes crashing to the floor, but not before he manages to kick his leg out and catch Jinyoung right in the groin.

 

“ _Ahhhh!_ ”

 

“That’s it! Get out and don’t ever come back, the both of you!”

 

Jinyoung’s head throbs and his groin aches, but the sound of blood rushing in his ears has finally receded and he comes back to himself. The librarian is looming above him, looking very much like she’s only just holding herself back from throwing punches herself.

 

“This is a place for learning, not brawling. Get out, I said!” She scowls darkly before she finally turns her back on Jinyoung and Jaebum and gestures for the only other occupants of the room—two students with their phones out, presumably recording the fight—to help her right the chairs and tables.

 

Jinyoung carefully eases himself into a sitting position, blinking in surprise at the hand extended to him. Jaebum stands above him with a smug, knowing look on his face, his lip bleeding slightly and a red mark blooming on his cheek.

 

“You’re a dick,” Jinyoung clicks his tongue as he accepts the hand and lets himself be pulled up.

 

“You actually managed to draw first blood this time, you were even more wound up than I thought,” Jaebum quips as they limp to the exit.

 

“Did you have to get me banned from the library?” Jinyoung shakes his head. “Where am I going to go to get anything done now?”

 

“We’ll work something out,” Jaebum throws an arm around Jinyoung’s shoulder. “I’ll go back later and tell her that it was all my fault, that I jumped you and you were just defending yourself. Failing that, you can study in my room. By the way, you forgot this,” Jaebum presses Jinyoung’s book into his hands.

 

Jinyoung turns the book over in his hands. His bookmark is missing and the corner of the back cover is creased, but the book is otherwise unscathed from their kick-up. “Thank you,” Jinyoung says quietly, not just talking about the book or the librarian.

 

Jaebum glances at him from the corner of his eye.

 

“Anytime.”


End file.
